


Drunk Halloween

by Marinia



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Billdip Week, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Kinda?, M/M, but then comes Bill, drunk bill, he just wants to watch Netflix, hermit Dipper, poor dip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: Dipper just wants to watch some Netflix and wait for Halloween to be over. But of course his boyfrined had to barge in-wait, no. He had to barge in while he was drunk and ruined Dippers series marathon. Dipper isn't even surprised





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know. I know I had a plan for this but then I began writing and suddenly I sat in front of this piece of junk. Tell me what you think, I guess

Dipper didn’t particularly _hate_ Halloween. He had enjoyed going trick or treating with his sister when they were still in School, although Mabel had begun to prefer the big parties Dipper had come to dislike. So it came as no surprise that he had put out any light and hid himself away in his bedroom (curtains closed) to enjoy a Netflix marathon while Mabel was out partying with one of her friends. He thought she was out with Pacifica, they were almost inseparatabil since they had come around and admitted their feelings a week ago. But it had been long coming, they had become friends after their first summer in Gravity Falls and they had been on almost-relationship-levels for some months now. But he didn’t really want to think about his sisters’ love life now, the one of his beloved fictional characters was more important for once. He checked his phone one last time, seeing some messages from Bill, his own boyfriend, which mostly contained of him posing in his devils costume in front of a mirror. Dipper snorted, it wasn’t surprising him that he would chose something like that, the extrovert, overdramatic kind-of-jerk he was. Dipper tipped a reply, again telling the blond that _no he didn’t want to come to any parties_.

One should think that someone as smart as Bill would get such a simple message after the first time, but the other was sometimes as stubborn as Dipper, although it was charming. For the most part at least, he thought, remembering one time the cryptologic-student had turned his Bluetooth speakers on a deafening volume to sing some cheesy love song and ask him to be his Valentine. Just thinking about it made him blush, a small smile finding his lips without his notice. But the comments he had gotten after had been terrible, he had to admit. He was shy and introverted by nature and even though Bill had _somehow_ managed to make him forget the whole _fucking school_ as he had asked him out, Dipper just hadn’t the confidence to deal with some stupid, homophobic bullies that thought it was fun to take their own frustrations out on a smaller, scrawnier person that had done nothing to them.

But he banished those thoughts from his head, shutting off his phone in case someone (probably Bill) decided to spam him through the whole night, or worse, drunk-calling him. Nope, he had had that, had heard it, had wished to take the spoon he had just a moment before eaten cereals with, and ram it into his brain to make sure he’d forget it. Drunk Bill was not a good Bill, in no case _whatsoever_. So he shut off his phone and laid it on his nightstand, turning on his telly and logging into Netflix, choosing to honor this holiday of capitalism and bad candy with a marathon of ‘Hannibal’. He had just began the third season and was a big fan, thanking Bill inwardly for recommending it to him. Although he seemed to have a bit too much _fun_ watching Hannibal Lecter and William Graham tearing themselves and their psyches into pieces. But Dipper didn’t really care, he already knew that his boyfriend was a potential psychopath and was okay with that.

He was just in the seventh episode, his breath hitching as he took a Dorito from his already half-eaten bowl, as he heard a loud knocking on the door, making him flinch and almost knocking over the mountains of pillows he leant against, some of them stolen of Mabels bedroom downstairs. He took a moment to collect himself, looking at the time on his alarm clock. 8:28pm. Not late enough for Mabel to come home, she would probably come home around 3am, if she came home at all. Dipper considered not moving at all, just keep laying here, waiting for whoever it was to go away. He just wanted to, as it knocked again, this time a shout accompanied it. _Oh heavens, no_. Dipper groaned inwardly as he heard his boyfriends’ voice. Yes, he may love him but if he _dared_ to interrupt his series, he would kill him.

 

But the other continued shouting and Dipper really didn’t want his neighbors to call the police, so he stood up and slurped out of his room and down the stairs, subconsciously trying to bring some kind of order into his hair. Ike that would work. He breathed in though his nose before opening the door, praying that Bill wasn’t completely wasted. But as he opened the door, he saw something much worse. The taller blond stood before him, a wide grin splitting his face in two, the faint scent of alcohol mixing with the one of his cologne. Oh, and he was half-naked.

 

The devils horns were a bit messy, but still securely in his wild blond hair, the blond seemed to have asked Mabel for some glitter, he had used to make not just himself but also his whole neck and torso a sparkly, better looking republica of Edward Cullen. He wore red shorts, his shaved legs being accentuated by his red stilettos. Not to forget the red jacket with the ripped black dress shirt underneath. Dipper would lie if he said that his mouth didn’t go dry, or that there was no blush creeping up his cheeks. “Hiya Pine Tree” Bill grinned a bit slurred, but not enough for dipper to worry that he would just grap random strangers and tell them about some conspiracy theory that said that tap water was Satans’ way of spreading ignorance through the country. “I thought you were at a party?” Dipper asked, stepping aside so the other could enter, a bit amused as he watched the other catching himself from falling over his stilettos. How could he even walk in those things? Not even Mabel would wear such high heels and she was usually down to everything.

 

“Well, I was, and I was dancin’ with some girl in a nurse outfit, but she tried the whole time ta flirt with me, and I thought that I would take ya to the party to make sure she sees that I’m more than… happy with my little saplin’” He told and Dipper chuckled. Yep, sounded like his half-crazed boyfriend. Bills smile seemed to soften at that and he stepped closer to him, laying his arms around him as if to protect him. “I missed you...” he said, and Dipper snorted. “We just saw each other today” he deadpanned, but Bill didn’t seem to care. “That’s not enough, come on Pine Tree, let’s fuck and cuddle” he slurred and Dipper looked at him, not sure whether to be disturbed, disgusted or amused. “Okay, you are too drunk to think clearly” he said, beginning to lead the other into the kitchen. “Do you have Doritos?” Bill asked, his yellow eyes looking at the other pleadingly, like a child begging for his favorite candy. Which wasn’t so far off, actually. “No, not now. And you need to drink something non-alcoholic, okay? Then you get some Doritos” he stated, and the other nodded, Dipper snorted.

 

Bill was seated on a kitchen chair, while Dipper took out a little water bottle and opened it, giving it to the blond. He should be able to handle the rest on his own. While the other probably drowned himself, he looked for something the other could eat, but Mabel had been the last one going shopping and Dipper didn’t want to have Bill on a sugar rush while being drunk. Just the thought gave him nightmares, he would probably even top Mabel if she was on three glasses of her infamous Mabel juice. He just chose some diet-taste-like-crap-cookies, as Bill was finished, standing up, muttering to himself. Dipper rolled his eyes, it was almost ridiculous how low Bills tolerance was, he was a senior for god’s sake! Weren’t seniors supposed to be all serious and high-tolerance and shit? But Bill was neither serious (like, ever) nor had a high tolerance, although he sometimes was a pain in the ass. Sometimes quite literally. Dipper cursed at himself. Yes of course, he was in College and a sophomore with a long-term relationship and a part-time-job, but he still had the humor of a fucking fifth grader.

 

“What are you planning to do, Bill?” Dipper asked suspiciously, remembering vividly how the blond had once _somehow_ managed to almost complete a satanic ritual to sacrifice Dippers Algebra homework to the all-seeing-eye. He still had the Pentagram carved into the wooden floor of his attic room. “Bill?” he asked, slightly panicking now. Then he heard laughter. Shrill, crazed laughter he knew by heart. Throwing all caution out of the window, he sprinted over the stairs, taking two or three with each step and running over the floor, almost flying into his room, panic running though his veins. _You already took my wood floor, what else do you want?_ He thought, but as he entered his room, he saw Bill, sitting on _his_ bed, leaned against _his_ (and Mabels) pillows and, most importantly, eating _his_ Doritos while watching _his_ show. Dipper blinked, before cursing heavily, a steam of words escaping him that would make his mother scold him if she ever found out.

 

He gripped the remote, Bill tried to take it first, but he was too slow, his usually almost unnaturally fast instincts being slowed down by the alcohol. Dipper looked at the screen of the TV, pasting backwards to where he had left off and closing the episode. _For now_ , he promised himself, after swearing to the love of god that he would kick Bill for ruining his Netflix marathon, when he was sober again. “Pine Tree…” the other winced, looking at the black screen like all his dreams had just been taken from him and been trampled on in front of his eyes. He would have looked cute if he hadn’t still glitter all over him and an eyeliner that miraculously still hold and looked too good for someone this wasted. Dipper just rolled his eyes, wrestling over the Dorito bowl for a bit, cursing under his breath. Bill was still far taller and muscular than him and if Stan hadn’t taught Dipper how to fight when bullies had started to be a problem he couldn’t hide anymore, he might have lost, but so he could eventually win the Dorito bowl and placed it on his desk, next to a stack of mystery books he still had to read.

 

He turned to Bill again, the blond had snuggled up in his bed and looked at him with an innocent, almost pouting look. He pinched the bridged of his nose, he’d have to move him on the coach, there was no way he would _that_ sleep in his bed. But as he began to pull the blanket off him, the demon began to go wild, treating and coursing like someone tried to steal from his most holy stack of candy. Something Dipper had done and regretted almost ten minutes later, as the agonized scream of his used-to-be dorm mate reached him. But he knew that he was never going to win and if Bill was getting (even more) irresponsible and whiny, then he was just some time away from falling asleep, just to wake up with a hangover that punished him for his behavior when drunk. So Dipper just rolled his eyes again, cursing his boyfriend for the thousandth time this evening. But still, he stripped himself of his sweatpants and snuggled next to the other into the bed, having enough mercy to remove Bills dress shirt, jacket and horns, his had been shed somewhere in between and Dipper saw them next to his doorframe. So much about a nice evening with nothing but Doritos and the wonderful mix of psychological and emotional horror, that had wrapped him into its spell. Bill murmured some sleepily nonsense, but snuggled closer to Dipper, who couldn’t hinder a smile from finding its way on his face. He put an arm around Bills shoulders, watching as the other nuzzled into his neck, satisfied smirk stealing its way up to his lips as he put an arm around Dippers torso. The brunette huffed, but took a book from his stack and began reading. He shouldn’t have drank so much coffee to get him through the whole season. But as he stole a glance at his now sleeping boyfriend he found that he was quite cute _. And_ he was getting glitter all over his covers and his shirt.


End file.
